Psych
by Punctuator
Summary: Premission vignette featuring Cassie and Capa. Very short and very harmless, unless you're a mindreading psychiatrist or you fear homely outerwear. One for the coming of winter....


**PSYCH**

She hated the sessions. Twice a week now, one in the morning, one-- like this-- right after dinner. Dr. Ellis, she was certain, had been a telemarketer in a former life. He had a nearly preternatural talent for inspiring irritation and reticence in equal measure. And she'd been late. Heaven forbid she should have been doing something real-- something involving the _Icarus_ and her flight deck. Blathering away with Dr. Nutzoid for-- she glanced at the steel-cased clock on his desk-- the better part of an hour: of course that took precedence. Worse: at the last question, she'd gone from tight-lipped to utterly mum. Frustration, of course, not the deep-seated neuroses for which the good doctor was so patiently grubbing. No question of that--

She said, clearly: "I fear being asked what I fear."

"Sorry." Dr. Ellis smiled like a barbed-wire fence. "Mr. Trey already tried that one."

"Aren't you supposed to observe confidentiality or something like that?"

"Not with regard to wisecracks, Lieutenant Cassidy."

"Call me--" She stopped.

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

"I thought you said--"

"Never mind-- Alone," she added.

Dr. Ellis arched his eyebrows into twin querying crescents.

"I fear being alone," Cassie said.

"Why's that?"

"Why's that any of your business?"

"Do you feel this hostility when you're with your crewmates?"

"Sure. Yes. That's why I got the job driving the ship. Had nothing to do with beating out a couple hundred equally qualified candidates. I'm just too crazy to drive a car."

"You fear being closed in. Compartmentalized."

_You're taking this seriously_. "I'm not claustrophobic, no."

"I see."

Which was psychologist-speak for "You're lying." Before Cassie could reply-- or formulate a more concrete demonstration of her "hostility"-- _Why don't I compartmentalize your nose for you, Doc?--_ Ellis said, "I think that's enough for today."

"But--"

The doctor tapped at the keys of his notepad. "On your way out-- Tell Dr. Capa to come in, if you would. Thank you."

At first, she thought he was asleep. Capa was sitting in one of the badly stuffed black chairs in the waiting area across the way. He was slouched, his legs in khakis and outstretched; he was wearing a shapeless green parka. An equally shapeless black hat and a pair of black gloves were nesting on the splay of old magazines on the coffee table in front of him. He seemed to be watching the hat suspiciously, as if for signs of movement-- but she knew better: he was watching the numbers in his head.

"You're next, Capa," she said in passing. She didn't pause, didn't wait to see if he heard; she wanted only to be out of--

"Miss Cassidy."

She thought it was Dr. Ellis. She swung around. "What--?"

Capa had gotten up. He was shrugging out of his parka. "You don't have a coat."

"I was late-- I just went out the door without--" _Snow in June. What the hell kind of world is this?_ "It's not that far to the dorms; I'll be fine."

But he was holding out his green monstrosity with all its pockets. "I won't inflict the cap on you--" He seemed to be looking just past her right shoulder. "-- that would be humiliating. But this: I insist. Please."

She took the parka. It was heavy and quilted and very soft. "What about you?"

"I'm heading straight to the lab after this. I don't have to go outside for that. You can return it later. I'll be working all night."

"Won't I disturb you?"

"I won't even notice you." He paused, frowned, reconsidered. She realized, then and abruptly, what _he_ feared: situations one couldn't corral or explain with numbers and equations. "I mean, of course I'll notice-- But not like-- Not like _that,_ you know?"

She smiled. "My coming by won't be disruptive. Is that what you're saying?"

Capa smiled slightly back. "Yes."

"I'll bring it back later, then." Cassie slipped her arms into the sleeves of the parka; without a word, Capa stepped behind her and hefted the coat onto her shoulders. She turned to him. "Thank you-- Can I call you 'Robert'?"

He met her eyes for only a moment. His were almost too blue. She'd never noticed before-- she nearly said it out loud. Then he turned his attention to the space between them. "Everyone calls me 'Capa,'" he said quietly.

"Thank you, Capa."

"You're welcome, Miss Cassidy."

"Everyone calls me 'Cassie.'"

He looked at her again. "You're welcome, then, Cassie."

_Almost too blue._ "See you later." She turned toward the way out, the glass doors, the snow swirling beyond. As she started to walk away, she thought of something; she called back to Capa: "Tell him you fear being asked what you fear."

A genuine smile, if a little perplexed; it was there, she knew, only because she was seeing it peripherally. If she turned back and looked directly, it would vanish. Why it was always easier to see less brilliant stars out of the corner of your eye. Capa said: "What's that?"

She was at the doors, her hand on a cold metal handle. "Trust me."

It was a good coat. She could almost swear the air temperature had risen. She stuffed her hands into deep pockets, ducked her head at the snowy wind, and headed for the dorms.

**THE END**


End file.
